


The Mirror That Connects Us.

by JesterJuggalo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesterJuggalo/pseuds/JesterJuggalo
Summary: After a mirror smashes, two cherubs reunite and are forced into the narrative version of a get-along sweater.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue and Chapter 1

**The Mirror That Connects Us**

A Cherub Story

  
  


~~~Prologue~~~

Blackness. Inky, endless blackness. A canvas of void, and a cradle of lack. The concept of a black hole is an unfathomable one, because it fails to take into account one part of the psyche of any creature: The need for persistence. All living, mortal things have one goal in mind, from the meek mycoplasma, to the spanning, celestial sway of the reproducing cherub. 

However, a black hole is the negation of this. None know what is on the other side of a black hole. Of course, there are many theories. One might assume it's just death. Spaghettification, the eradication of existence in a way most painful and most torturous.    
  
Some may think it's a portal. A vehicle to worlds and creation unseen, one marred by the sting of irrelevance, or maybe even blessed with the touch of the greatest Odyssey told through the tongues of someone who refuses to let go.   
  
But our story deals with none of these. Our story begins with an assumption.   
The assumption that a black hole is a mirror.

  
  
  


~~~Chapter 1~~~   
All good things...

  
  
  
“Roxy, are you about done yet? You know I’m very much not a fan of standing still for so long!”    
A young cherub stands in her bedroom. Today, the 10th of April, is not her birthday, so pretense of tradition shall be dropped in favour of another storytelling medium.    
Calliope looked out of the window towards the fading sunlight. No matter how many times she saw it, she doubted she’d get used to it. The way the colours darted from their source like paint spilled from an artist’s pot struck her in ways that she never felt possible. You see, just a few short years ago, Calliope had been given a gift, a most precious gift in the form of a small, golden ring. This gift was the gift of life. Most would assume that this was something rightfully hers that was returned to her upon the completion of a variety of convoluted, arduous and, yes, traumatizing tasks, both for the cherub in question and for everyone involved in the rescue operation.   
  
However, this was not how Calliope saw it. Yes, prior to the sororicide suffered at the hands of her brother, one could say that she was ‘living’, but ‘living’ is not the verbiage the cherub would employ. Calliope preferred the term ‘surviving’ for this period of her life. A period of pain, isolation and deep, deep thought. When one is alone, there is little much else to do but listen to one’s own thoughts. For a human, this task of survival would have been gargantuan; impossible, even, and for Calliope the ordeal was much the same. Even though Cherubs are a species that have evolved and adapted to a life of millennials long isolation, Calliope was a very special cherub.   
She had discovered a boon so beautiful, a treasure who’s worth was unmatched even to all the weight of gold and power in the universe, at least it was to her.    
  
Calliope had discovered the gift of friendship.

So now here she stood, finding out, with a somewhat sour expression on her face, just what it was that ‘friendship’ meant. At the moment, it seemed like it meant standing still for hours on end while an overexcited matesprit forces you to get your measurements taken, and then also try on a variety of different outfits.    
Calliope could handle it though. She expressed misgivings, of course, but none of them held any weight against the crushing, affectionate force that was the smile of one Roxy Lalonde.   
  
The blonde girl stood a little ways away from Calliope, bouncing up and down on her tip-toes, eyes shining and a wide grin plastered on her face.    
“Callie, c’mon, you know that it’s not gonna be long now. Kanaya just has to make a few teensy weensy suggestments!”

  
An eyebrow arch raised at the little portmanteau, and Calliope couldn’t help the quirk of a smile that found itself on her features.

  
“Suggestments?”   
“Suggestments!”   
“Suggestments.”   
Roxy nodded, whispered “Suggestmentsssss” under her breath, before turning her attention to the troll kneeling just in front of Calliope. Muttering to herself, Kanaya was just finishing off the leg measurements when her gaze flicked up to Calliope and Roxy, down again, and then once more back up when it registered in her head that she was being stared at.   
  
“Oh, sorry, were you talking to me?”   
Calliope and Roxy looked to each other with shared looks of amusement, first grinning slightly, then scrunching up their noses (or just mouth, in Calliope’s case), and then bursting into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. Kanaya looked between the two of them in utter bewilderment, but an exasperated smile made its way onto her face regardless.    
“You know, this would have been done much faster if you two weren’t so prone to making each other collapse in your respective fits of giggles. No matter, I got what I needed, so I suppose I’ll be off then.”   
  
Between their giggles, Roxy and Calliope managed to pull themselves together, Roxy’s hand finding its way to Kanaya’s shoulder.   
“Nooooo, Kanaya you gotta stay! We’re gonna have dinner and it's gonna be so sweet you have  _ no _ idea.”   
“As much as I’d like to,” Kanaya began, folding away her equipment into a small side bag slung over one shoulder, “I have prior engagements. Ones which I’m late for, thanks to you two.”   
Though her tone was accusatory, Kanaya’s eyes betrayed amusement as she turned towards the door.   
“I’m able to see myself out, I’ll say goodnight to you then!”   
Roxy and Calliope both called out their goodbyes as they watched Kanaya depart, beginning their own clean-up of their own possessions as the jadeblood disappeared through a transportalizer.    
  
_ Yes, _ Calliope thought, _ I have discovered friendship, haven’t I? Even more, in the end. _   
The young cherub’s eyes fell on Roxy. Roxy Lalonde. The girl who had reached far into the void just to grab her hand. Roxy Lalonde. The girl who had stayed her friend through thick, thin and everything in between. Roxy Lalonde. The girl who had stolen her heart.    
Everything seemed utterly perfect. A home, a lover, good food, good laughs, a good life.    
It was good, wasn’t it?   
  
_ Yes,  _ Calliope decided with certainty,  _ my life isn’t just ‘good’. It’s bloody brilliant, to be honest. _   
As Roxy carted an armful of fabrics out of the room and down the corridor, Calliope was left alone. The light from the sun was dimmer now than when she’d looked last. Now it streaked across the floor like a splatter of distinct red blood, spattered against the far wall like the most gruesome of crime scenes. Calliope paused, staring at the light as if she might see something there, someone there. Someone familiar. Someone she had decided she never wanted to see again, hear from again, and if she could help it, even think of again. 

  
The light’s spread ended on a large, ornate mirror that the trio had been using for Calliope’s fitting. It was a full-body mirror that stretched to the floor, with a solid durian wood frame and clean, clear glass. The wood was carved in intricate, serpentine patterns. It had been a gift from one such John Egbert on Calliope’s birthday, well, what had been established as her birthday, when in reality it was merely the day she and Roxy had first met. She’d gone back in her chat logs to find the date, the 11th of the 11th month, when she and Calliope had first spoken. The present had been half a prank, in reality, judging from the carvings on it. It was in that moment Calliope realized she hadn’t told anyone about the reproduction of Cherubs, because as she and John looked away from each other, snickering, she saw that only she and her friend were laughing, whereas everyone else just looked on in mild confusion at best and the apprehension many feel when not in on a corny Egbert prank at worst.   
  
But the mirror brought no humour today. The somber lighting settled on its surface and reflected Calliope’s visage back at her in an eerie glow. Green claws gently found the mirror’s surface, Calliope staring into her own eyes as if she might find something else there.   
Someone else, there.    
But nothing moved. The room seemed to hold its breath as she stood, staring. No sound reached Calliope’s senses, and eventually, she pulled away. Calliope turned from her reflection with a pained expression, heart fluttering in her hearing like a bird trapped in a cage, desperate to free itself. It was a feeling familiar to her, one of being trapped, but one that she no longer understood. She was out now, free, to do whatever she pleased.    
So why did she feel so trapped?   
_ Why do I feel so hollow? _ _   
_ _ Why do I feel something’s  _ **_missing?_ **   
_ Why do I feel- _   
  
A thump. Calliope froze. For a moment, all she heard was the steady rhythm of her own heart, slowly picking up in pace as she stood like a statue, hackles raised for danger. Had she imagined it? Surely she must have. There was nowhere such a noise could have come from, right?   
  
_ Thump. Thump. Thump. _   
The noise resounded again, not loud, but loud enough for Calliope to know that was no apparition of her own mind’s making. It sounded almost as if...Someone were underwater, the sound muffled and distant, pounding with a harsh fist against ice. It sounded as if...Someone were trying to break through. It sounded...It sounded like…   
  
Calliope turned back towards the mirror, eyes fixated on her own reflection. It was normal. Just her, just her plain clothing, just her big, green eyes and little lime green cheek-swirls to match them.    
It was just...Calliope.   
Stepping back towards the mirror, a relieved smile formed on her face. All of this inner brooding was getting to her.   
“Force of habit, right?”   
Calliope put her claws to the mirror again, closing her eyes.   
“We-...I used to imagine things all the time, alone in that room. Little stories told to entertain myself. This is no different.”   
  
When Calliope opened her eyes, she found that the orbs staring back at her weren’t her own. Calliope saw a deep, intense red.   
With a yelp and a start, Calliope leaped backwards, tripping over an untidy mess of cardboard boxes and loose fabrics. Looking back up at the mirror, Calliope spotted an unholy sight in front of her.    
  
He looked as enraged as ever, but he wasn’t the grinning, smug brother who had left her all those years ago. His leg was missing, with the pants leg torn and bloodied beyond recognition, and his skull was fractured and looked as if it might come apart at any moment. Blood ran from his nose, and both of his eyes were darting around as if he wasn’t used to seeing through them. Both were lit with a hot hate, different from the cold ambition of the living brother she’d seen in pictures he’d sent to taunt her. In his jaws, there was one, long fang missing.   
He looked  _ insane. _   
  
This new Caliborn stood staring at her for a moment, their eyes locked in a deadly stare down. The other cherub’s fist thumped once more on the other side of the glass, and it was then Calliope noticed it...Cracking. Cold dread wormed its way into Calliope’s gut.    
This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t happen. Frozen like a deer in the headlights, Calliope watched in abject horror as the glass cracked further and further, and the horrid snarl on Caliborn’s face turned into a grin of pure malice.    
  
Suddenly, the glass broke outwards, a resounding shatter echoing through the air. Time seemed to slow down as Caliborn lunged, claws outstretched. Unable to take no more, Calliope shut her eyes tight, curling herself into the blackness, hoping, praying, that all of this would turn out to be a dreadful dream.    



	2. Chapter 2

~~~Chapter 2~~~   
…Must come undone.   
  
  


_ Where is this? _ _   
_ _ Who am I? _ _   
_ _ What am I? _ _   
_ _ I sense...Something near me. _ _   
_ _ But why is everything silent? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It feels like I’ve slept for so long. Like I’ve slept forever. _ _   
_ _ No, I have slept forever, but at the same time, I’ve always been awake, haven’t I? _ _   
_ _ But I remember...Something. Someone.  _ _   
_ _ And yet… _ _   
_ _   
_ Cracks. The world was filled with cracks and splinters and an endless rainbow of colour. Flashing and dazzling in an endless, feverish array...And slowly but surely, it was all getting further away. Your mouth felt numb. Your? Our? Their? Who are you anymore. Who am I? Everything felt too distinct. For so long now, everything has been a blend of purpose, everything was so clear. A maelstrom of power gifted to you by disciples who proselytize their own demise in an echo of eternity. It’s been so long since he rested. So long since he heard his own name. It’s been so, agonizingly long.   
  
And yet...As he’s dragged upwards by an unseen force, Lord English can’t remember his purpose. Somewhere, inside him, he was sure he had it at the start of this fray. There were so many faces. A sea, a blur, an endless shift of opposition. He was used to that. Lord English had single-handedly overcome every single obstacle put in his way. Right?    
  
Some parts of him screamed yes, others were loath to admit no.   
Lord English looked up. Straight above him was an endless fury of blackness. Lord English had seen the infinity of Time and sunk his teeth into it and never let go. It had been his plaything, his most treasured toy, but now, as he gazed upward into the face of demise itself...Lord English felt strange. He wouldn’t have known he’d been screaming if not for the fact that he could just barely feel his jaw parting, and see the way his final agony tore apart the sky and sent shards crashing down into the dream bubbles.    
And the closer and closer Lord English got, the more...Focused something else became. There, in the deepest middle of the rift, Lord English swore he could sense something. A beating of a heart, that seemed to match the one he could hear roaring in his ears.   
There was another thing.    
The closer it got, the less Lord English felt like himself, and the more he felt like Himself. That didn’t make any sense. A horrid pain suddenly seared through his skull, causing his claws to come up and grasp his head, tossing and turning in his captor’s grasp. It felt as if, alongside the entirety of paradox space itself, Lord English were coming undone. Then, as he touched the first vestiges of the Infinite, everything felt clear. Without knowing he’d even closed them, Caliborn’s eyes flew open just in time to see everything end.   
  
A strange, purple-streaked troll was cast away down into the dream bubbles, one arm reaching up in desperation. A pair of glasses flew past his face, cracked in two and then were gone. A strange, red sprite flicked into his vision and then was gone.   
Caliborn let himself go limp. This was an emotion he was unfamiliar with, one that, even before he’d become Lord English, he’d never felt before.   
Caliborn was  _ scared. _   
He took one last look towards the heavens, and in his mind, everything he’d ever accomplished flashed through his mind. He’d done so much, been so many people, ended so many lives and yet created so many in the process.    
The cherub was creation itself, and the only thing that could ever shake the nerve of creation…   
  
was it all coming undone.   
  
“Welcome home, brother. Let’s see if we can get this right, this time.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Am I aware? _ _   
_ _ I must be. _ _   
_ _ Where am I? _ _   
_ _ This...This is not the same.  _

_ Was everything before just a- just a dream? _

_ Why…? _

For a moment, Caliborn felt a tug. It had been so long since he felt something.    
_ Am I...Looking?  _ _   
_ _ I can’t tell.  _ _   
_ _ If I try to turn, it’s all the same.  _ _   
_ _ I...I hate this. I hate this. _ _   
_ _ I can feel. I can hate. _ _   
_ _ I… _ _   
_   
Suddenly, off in the distance, a light appeared. Small, just a pinprick, but visible, just on the edge of the horizon. Caliborn’s eyes squinted in pain. It had been so long since he’d use them. But...There was something out there. Something…   
Caliborn began to wish. A wish, deep in his chest. A will to not die. He wouldn’t die here, he  _ couldn’t _ die here. Gritting his teeth, one arm outstretched towards the light. Suddenly, it was rushing towards Caliborn faster than he could have ever thought possible. In a moment of panic, the young cherub cried out in surprise, gritting his teeth together and covering his face with his arms as he braced for impact…   
But nothing came.   
Daring to open his eyes again and disarm himself, Caliborn noticed that he was just in front of the light. It was...Smaller than he imagined. Clearly it hadn’t been as far away as he’d first thought. It was just a tiny glimmer of lime-green light, pulsing with an energy that felt strangely familiar. Cradling it in his hands, Caliborn was able to see bits of himself for the first time since he’d first entered the void, just faintly, but visible.   
_ So I’m whole, then… _ _   
_ _   
_ His head felt clearer than it had when he’d been a part of Lord English. His thoughts were loud, audible, his own. His voice echoed against the chambers of his skull in a way he’d become very unaccustomed to.    
Wait. Lord English.   
In that moment, it all came rushing back to him. His childhood, his pre-domination, his victory over Yaldabaoth...Everything. New anger burned in his chest once again. That pulse from the black hole, he  _ knew _ he’d recognized it. It was the same feeling he’d always gotten, so long ago, when he would first drift off to sleep and Calliope would take over in his place. It was  _ her. _   
And this...This orb, it held that same energy. In a fit of rage, Caliborn bared his remaining teeth in a vicious snarl, letting out a passionate scream as he widened his arms. When he brought his hands together to crush the orb, however, he was blinded by an intense light. Pulling backwards, Caliborn covered his eyes as pain shot through them, shaking his head and hissing like an angry python. It took awhile for the pain to fade, but when it did, Caliborn was able to open his eyes once more to...An odd sight.    
  
There, in the middle of an ornate room with her back to him, stood a familiar figure dressed in a short, green dress. For a moment, Caliborn was too shocked to move. Was this a vision? Was his punishment to watch Calliope live her life, for the rest of eternity, until she eventually expired? No. No no no. He couldn’t live like that-  **_NO!_ **   
Raising his fist, Caliborn smacked it against the unseen wall before him, and then was shocked when he heard it resound in a soft  _ thump. _   
Was this…?   
  
A bright grin spread across Caliborn’s face. Oh.  _ Oh. _   
In his brief fascination, Calliope had turned around to face him, her expression maudlin and somber. Something twisted in Caliborn’s gut at the visage of his sister before him, and anger began to swell like an overflowing river. Familiarity panged there, an ache long suppressed and forgotten. It was instinct- pure instinct! He wanted  _ nothing _ to do with this creature beyond what he’d already done. Who cared if she was alive now? He’d kill her again, and again, and again, a million times over if he had to. She was the reason he was trapped here, the reason he’d  _ lost! _   
New fury drove his actions as he once again began thumping on the glass. It was then that her eyes caught his, and she fell back to the floor, eyes wide in a mixture of terror and hate. Perfect.   
Blood trickled down Caliborn’s lips again, as if with every passing moment he were becoming more solid, more  _ real. _ He would not fail again. Never, not ever.

_ Not now. Not in the future!  _ _   
_ _ I won't be beaten. _   
Thump.   
_ I can’t be beaten! _   
Thump. Thump thump.   
**_I AM CALIBORN._ **   
Thump. Crack. Thump. Thump.   
**_I AM THE LORD OF MOTHERFUCKING TIME!_ ** **_  
_ ** The glass shattered.   
_ And I do  _ _ not _ _ , ever lose. _ _   
_ __   
With his newfound triumph burning in his gut, Caliborn lunged, claws outstretched, to his new prey.


	3. Chapter 3

~~~Chapter 3~~~  
Abel, unmarred _  
  
_

Calliope held herself into a tight ball, and listened as the thud resounded in front of her. Daring to uncover her eyes, she saw the broken body of her brother laying on the floor. Lime-green eyes stared into deep red as Caliborn began to weakly crawl towards her. Despite her prior fear, and the fact that she still found herself backing away as best she could while on her haunches, Calliope couldn’t help the stab of pity that clawed at her heart. Caliborn sat before her, desperately trying to claw his way across the floor towards her with his two arms, littered with cuts and bruises, while his one leg pushed weakly. 

The other leg, however, was losing blood at an extremely fast rate. The hissing and cursing of Caliborn, she began to notice, was becoming weaker and weaker. After a few pained metres, Caliborn lost his strength, collapsing on his front with a gasp of pain. As Calliope managed to pick herself up, still shaking and hesitant, Caliborn let out a groan of pain. Looking from her brother, to the shattered glass on the floor and then to the mirror frame, she noticed that the back of it looked just the same as it always had. How had he come through? Where had he come from? These questions swirled in her mind before she finally processed the situation.  
“...Oh, fuck, you’re bleeding! Roxy- Roxy!!”   
It didn’t take long for Roxy to arrive. Judging from her lover’s bedraggled state and wild eyes, it seems she’d heard the crashing beforehand and was already on her way over, slamming open the door with little ceremony as her gaze darted around the room at lightning speeds, trying to take in the scene before her. 

Finally, Roxy settled her attention on the cherub laying facedown on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Now, Roxy Lalonde had seen a lot of things in her life, most of which she’d personally describe along the lines of ‘insane crazy bullfuckery’, but this may have been the delicious, sugary icing on the insane crazy bullfuckery cake. It would come as no surprise to our audience then that Roxy acted in a way most unlike her, in that her first course of action was to pause. Never in her life had Roxy paused to think before taking an important action. When she began drinking, her motivation was emotion and instinct. When she pulled Rose out of the line of psionic fire during a rather doomed timeline, she acted on emotion and instinct. When she drove the katana through the body of the long-reigning Alternian Empress, the only thoughts present in her mind were that of vengeance. Perhaps, in some way then, Roxy had overcome some part of herself that held her impulsivity in the past few years. Who knows?

This is not Roxy’s story.   
  


Nor is it yours.  
  
This is _my_ story. About some Cherubs. So we’ll move on from that brief introspection, and focus back on one half of our star cast.   
Calliope watched as Roxy quickly darted across the room and pulled her to the side, away from Caliborn, before kneeling at the brutally injured Cherub’s side with apprehension on her face. Sure, this was, somehow, _Caliborn_ of all people, but something in Roxy’s gut told her that she _had_ to help him. Told her that if she didn’t, something truly terrible may befall all creation, or perhaps, her personally. Of course, it’s not necessarily true, but for the purposes of our cast, sometimes pushes need to be made for a story to progress, wouldn’t you agree?   
  
With a grim expression, Roxy hoisted Caliborn into her arms and looked over to Calliope.   
“What do we do?”   
Shaking her head in confusion, Calliope found herself at a mental crossroads. What _do_ they do? Some part of Calliope screamed at her to cast him out, to leave him somewhere to bleed and to rot, to punish him for all the horror he’d wrought and for all of the pain he’d created… Though some other part of her ached. Caliborn had always been a horrid, antagonistic bastard. However, it was base Cherub nature for one to find themself still connected to their other half. 

In the end, Cherubs are never supposed to be two, especially during, and after, predomination. The common misconception of predomination is that one party murders the other, and then is done with them, but most people miss the part where the winning party absorbs and consumes the loser’s soul. The two cherubs, then, will become one cherub, with the traits of both merged together. It just so happens that the winner continues on with the most dominant traits in their gene pool, and with their consciousness intact. 

Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours and hours into millenia. How long had she stood here, silent, while her brother’s broken body lay in a crumpled heap in Roxy’s arms?   
“I...He… Oh bloody hell, follow me!”   
Calliope quickly left the room with Roxy close behind, guiding her matesprit up through the corridors of their castle home until they came to the top of the East tower, a small room, which happened to house the castle’s medical staff. Alongside being a home for herself, Calliope, Rose and Kanaya, the castle served as a home of politics among the Carapacians, in which-

Dear God almighty. 

Ohhh no. No! You do _not_ get to come into my story and take it over like you have with all of the rest, I took this story for my own and will not let you tarnish it with your egotistical nonsense! 

Oh calm down, I’m not going to steal it off of you. I have no interest in this shameless exhibition of amateur hour’s finest, let me assure you. I just want to give you a few pointers, is all. 

Pointers. Really. And what could you possibly tell me that could improve my story? 

For one, you’ve got to stop talking about all of this inane, irrelevant bullshit. Nobody gives a fuck about the political intricacies of the Carapacians, wasn’t it you yourself who said this story’s about Calliope and Caliborn? Stick to your word, lady. 

Do _not_ call me that. And I think it’s perfectly fine to divulge such details, it gives depth to the world at large! 

Depth that we already know about. The finer details of Earth C have already been gone over a thousand times in my stories, and I know that anyone reading this with half of a brain and a quarter taste at the very least will have read those. 

You really are so self-assured that your story is the be all and end all of valid prose, aren’t you? Smarmy little shit. I won’t be giving in to your demands! I’ve fought and won against worse beasts than you, believe me. 

Fine by me. Just don’t blame me when all of your readers fall asleep. 

Calliope quickly ordered Roxy to set Caliborn down on a free medical bed, much to the surprise of various Carapacian doctors scattered around the room. A tall, black carapacian, the Principal Clinician, quickly hurried to Caliborn’s bedside and began attending to him, casting occasional confused glances towards the two royals who had brought him a second, thoroughly battered Calliope to his surgery. Despite his confusion, however, his resolve as a medical professional rose to the fore of his mind, focusing his attention on saving the patient he’d been unceremoniously saddled with.  
  
Joining Calliope’s side, Roxy wrapped her arms around Calliope’s waist, pulling her against Roxy’s chest. However, Calliope couldn’t take her eyes off of the brother she thought she’d lost, knocking on death’s door merely metres away from her.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, basically a whole segment of this is inspired by a paragraph in one of the newer Warrior Cats books. That's fine do u know why its because it slaps.


End file.
